


Just Under The Upper Hand

by heeddaa



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Character Death, Incest, M/M, Pre-The Hobbit, Prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-09
Updated: 2013-09-09
Packaged: 2017-12-26 03:43:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/961184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heeddaa/pseuds/heeddaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Dís went on a diplomacy trip to the Blue Mountains, leaving her sons behind, Kíli hasn't been coping well. Feeling lonely and craving things from his brother that Fíli doesn't know of, he turns to a lifestyle that will turn both their lives on end. <br/>Set before The Hobbit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Under The Upper Hand

‘Bugger!’

Fíli is roused from sleep by a loud bang and a string of mumbled curses. For one confused and sleep-hazed moment he scrambles for the hunting knife he keeps on the bedside table, but then his brain pulls itself together enough for Fíli to recognize the growls coming from across the room. 

‘Kíli?’ he asks, peering into the darkness, where a black form is just about visible in the soft moonlight. Fíli grabs a candle he’d used for reading earlier that evening and holds up the dying flame. In the flickering light he sees his brother, crouched on the floor and scrambling with a pile of books he seems to have knocked off the desk. His dark hair is hanging limply in front of his face, but Fíli can still see the frustration in his furrowed brow and tight jaw. Kíli doesn’t look up or acknowledge Fíli’s presence, only attempts another tower of heavy volumes before it topples over at his careless hands. 

‘Where have you been?’ Fíli ventures, trying to keep the accusatory tone out of his voice. 

‘None of your concern,’ Kíli answers, and Fíli recognizes the slurred vowels far too well. As Kíli gives up on the books and staggers toward the bed Fíli smells the alcohol on him, as though it were seeping out of his pores. 

‘You’re drunk again,’ he states, and Kíli snorts harshly as he sinks down on their shared bed and kicks his boots across the floor. He turns around and smiles at Fíli, but the smile is angry, and tired. 

‘No one in the line of Durin would ever sink into such depravity,’ the dark-haired Dwarf mutters and the spite in his voice makes Fíli flinch. He watches in silence as Kíli strips down to his underclothes, grumbling at the strings of his trousers only a handful of times, and then simply sits at the edge of the bed, back turn toward Fíli. 

‘You know mother wouldn’t approve,’ he starts but Kíli’s form goes tense immediately.

‘Well mother isn’t here, is she?’ he snarls, and Fili regrets his words. Their mother had left for the Blue Mountains several months ago, going in Thorin’s place, as he couldn’t leave Ered Luin on a simple diplomacy trip. Kíli isn’t taking it well, and Fíli knows that. 

He reaches out and strokes a tentative hand over Kili’s back in apology, feeling sudden warmth rush through him as his brother leans into the touch. Fingertips travel over ribs and protruding vertebras. Kíli has grown so very thin. Fíli wraps his hand around a bony wrist and tugs gently. 

‘Sleep, brother,’ he whispers, but Kíli pulls his arm away with a sigh. 

‘You sleep; you have Kuzduhl lessons in the morning.’ He is right, and Fili’s eyes are gravely with fatigue, so he relents. He doesn’t want to start an argument in the middle of the night anyway. He brushes his fingers down Kíli’s back one last time before burying himself in his pillow. He drifts off with the sound of his brother’s breathing next to him, and wondering when this happened. When did they become this? 

When Kíli crawls under the covers Fíli is already asleep. In his sleep he shuffles closer to Kíli’s warm body, unknowingly pressing chest against back. But he doesn’t see the bruises on Kíli’s arms. He doesn’t hear Kíli wince at the burning pain between his legs. He doesn’t feel the weight of the heavy gold coins in the pocket of Kíli’s trousers. And as he snores softly against Kíli’s neck, he doesn’t notice his little brother wipe away a silent tear from his cheek. 

*

The tavern is crowded as usual when Kíli enters. He scans the guests lazily as he moves toward the bar, recognizing a few faces. The barkeep puts a mug of ale in front of Kíli without having to ask and he takes a few grateful swigs. The taste isn’t terrific, but it isn’t terrible either, and in any case Kíli doesn’t really care about the taste, only the end result. 

He downs the rest of the drink and looks around the room. The ginger Dwarf from two nights ago is sitting with a group of others, beer splattering across the table as he laughs loudly. Kíli looks away in disgust. The elderly Dwarf from last week is hidden away in a dark corner with a young lad in his lap. He’s leaning close and whispering in the younger’s ear, and Kíli recognizes the smile on his lips. Indulgent, coy, and very fake. Kíli is a master of that smile. 

He remains at the bar for a while, ordering in more drink and examining the patrons for interested eyes until he feels the well-known spinning and faces start to blur before him. He throws a few coppers onto the counter and gets up, feeling himself sway as gravity hits. 

‘Evening beautiful,’ a dark voice purrs into his ear. Wet breath puffs against his cheek and Kíli’s stomach churns uncomfortably at the stench of ale and old pipe smoke. He takes a strained breath and turns to face the Dwarf behind him, keeping a tight grip on the edge of the bar so as not to stumble. At first sight he isn’t too bad, well-groomed beard and dressed in a coat that looks soft to the touch, but as Kíli squints through his drunken haze he notices that the Dwarf is quite a bit older than he first thought. There are deep lines around his eyes and when he looks Kíli up and down with an appreciative leer his teeth are yellowed and missing in some places. But though it is streaked with white, his hair is long and blonde, with braids that are so familiar that they make Kíli’s heart hurt. So he looks up at the waiting Dwarf from beneath dark lashes and smiles bashfully.

‘Evening Mister.’ 

The blonde Dwarf leads Kíli up the stairs to the rooms above the tavern, hand resting far too low and murmuring things Kíli doesn’t manage to pick up into his ear. When they come to Dwalor’s, or at least that is what Kíli thinks he breathed against his neck at some point, room the Dwarf undresses without preamble and sits down on the bed, stroking his cock with a low moan. He looks up at Kíli imploringly and Kíli, who had been standing dumbly in the middle of the room, walks forward and sinks to his knees. He closes his eyes and lets his mouth sink down on the dick that is shoved unceremoniously in his face and tries to block out the groans of pleasure coming from above. A clammy hand runs up his neck and tangles in his hair, and Kíli yelps as a harsh tug has his scalp burning. He works his mouth mechanically, but before long he is pulled onto the bed and his trousers and pants yanked off. Dwalor leans over him and strokes a finger across his cheek.

‘So beautiful,’ he says and Kíli closes his eyes again. He can hear the Dwarf spit into his hand, slicking himself up, and then there is pressure, fiery and agonizing, as Dwalor presses into him. 

Beautiful. 

With a loud groan he pushes all the way in, covering Kíli’s body with his own, and Kíli bites down on his bottom lip to keep from crying out. He tastes iron as blood fills his mouth. 

So beautiful. 

Dwalor sets up a quick pace, every thrust accentuated by a grunt against Kíli’s jaw, against his neck, against his lips. Blonde locks cover his face as Dwalor’s hair falls around him, and with a whimper that is barely a sigh Kíli buries his face in it. He pushes away the images of Dwalor and his rotting teeth and his possessive smile, and thinks about golden hair, and soft hands against his back. Then the sweaty Dwarf comes with a loud shout, but Kíli only hears warm laughter that bounces off the walls of his bedroom, filling him with joy. 

So damn beautiful. 

*

The night air is bitingly cold. Fíli pulls his furs tighter around himself as he walks briskly through empty streets. He isn’t sure where he is going, eyes searching for somewhere warm where they might serve him a pint. He doesn’t usually go into town at night, preferring to read in the study across from uncle Thorin, but tonight Dwalin has just about thrown him out of the training hall after their weapons session. 

‘Get the hell out of my sight,’ he’d grumbled as Fíli sat panting in the sand and whipping sweat from his brow. A flash of hurt shot through him, but then Dwalin clapped a warm hand on his shoulder and chuckled. ‘Go and have some fun for once. You’ve earned it, lad.’

He protested, saying that he was tired and dirty and not up for it, but Dwalin gave him a withering look that had Fíli grabbing his things and running to the door without another word. 

So he walks along the cobblestoned street, silently wondering what “fun” he’s supposed to have in some pub, knowing no one. Are there even any bloody pubs in this town? Right when he’s about to give up and head home, despite the looks Dwalin will give him, however, Fili turns a corner and finally sees the lights of a small tavern. He heaves a relieved sigh and hurries through the door. When he enters he is met by loud voices and an overwhelming smell of alcohol. Fíli hates that the smell reminds him of Kíli. He wonders briefly where his brother is. Out somewhere with a sweetheart perhaps, but he pushes the thought away. Not right now. 

The Dwarf behind the bar greets him without looking at him, and Fíli orders a drink that he doesn’t really want. The taste is awful but he drinks it anyway, peering around the room over the edge of the glass. Fíli recognizes a few of the merchants he has met during trade discussion together with Thorin, but they don’t notice his presence, which Fíli is grateful for. He feels eyes on him as he orders another drink, and when he turns back around an older Dwarf, partially hidden away in the back of the room, is smiling at him appreciatively over the shoulder of someone who looks to be half his age perched on his lap. Their eyes meet briefly, and an uncomfortable chill runs down Fíli’s back. He averts his gaze, but when his eyes travel to the stairs across the room he immediately regrets it. 

Leaning against the wooden banister, tugging at his tunic and smiling timidly up at a blonde Dwarf that must be at least a decade older than their uncle, is Kíli. Fíli watches in silent horror as his little brother stretches out a hand and four gold coins land in his palm. Unwillingly, a low growl escapes his lips as the blonde leans down and presses his mouth against Kili’s neck, and it turns into a furious snarl when the shyness in Kíli’s eyes is replaced by a sadness that tears at Fíli’s insides. He wants to run up to them. He wants to grab the Dwarf and smash him to pieces for putting his hands on Kíli, but his body won’t move. Instead Fíli sits, frozen in place and desperately trying to make sense of what is happening, as the blonde Dwarf returns up the stairs and Kíli heads for the door. He is limping slightly, and his hands are clenched at his sides, but he walks past Fíli without seeing him, and Fíli can’t bring himself to go after him. 

The world has turned strangely quiet, but when the door closes behind Kíli the sounds around Fíli crash back into his ears like a slap in the face. There is still laughter and loud shouts of mirth, but Fíli has grown cold. Kíli’s odd behaviour, the alcohol, the late nights, the weight loss, all of it suddenly makes sense. But Fíli doesn’t want it to. Not like this. He knows that he has to confront Kíli about it; make him understand that he can’t be doing these things that Fíli can’t properly formulate in his mind, can’t push through the wall of dread that has risen inside him. But not right now. Fíli can’t do it right now, when he is trembling and on the brink of inebriation and tears over his baby brother. 

So instead he gets thoroughly smashed. 

*

Fíli creeps into his and Kíli’s bedroom just as the sun is starting to rise. He had fallen asleep in his chair, head resting against the bar top, and had finally been requested to leave when he slid to the floor in a heavy pile. The barkeep helped him through the door, but Fíli was actually feeling better than expected, at least physically. The sleep had done him good, and when he walked home on slightly shaky legs the cool air numbed his headache further. 

Mentally, on the other hand, Fíli is a mess. He is still trying to properly express to himself what he witnessed the previous night, but his mind draws blank. It hurts too much, thinking about what Kíli has been doing to himself, what he has let others do to him, but Fíli knows that he has to be strong in this. He has to be the older brother, be strong for the two of them. 

‘Keep him safe,’ Dis had whispered to him as they hugged goodbye before her journey. 

‘Of course,’ Fíli nodded, squeezing his mother a little tighter and wishing that she didn’t have to go. He had promised to protect her son, his little brother, but he hadn’t kept his promise. He had been so wrapped up in studies with Balin and training with Dwalin and political discussions with Thorin, all grooming him, the heir of the throne of Erebor. And he had let Kíli slip out of his grasp, and into the hands of sweaty, old Dwarves that didn’t deserve his Kíli. So now it is his job to fix it. 

The curtains aren’t drawn, and light is starting to spread across the floor and onto the bed that Kíli is sitting on. He watches Fíli tiredly as he takes off his coat and hangs it over a chair, prolonging the inevitable. Kíli looks haggard, leaning against the headboard, purple bruises under his eyes and skin ashen, and it hurts so much more knowing the reason. 

‘You were out,’ he states, voice as worn-out as his face. 

‘So were you,’ Fíli retorts, and Kíli shrugs. They stare at each other, Fíli trying desperately to think of a way to approach the subject. 

One awful part of him wants to throw Kíli a few coins and ask for a tumble, a feeling of betrayal he had not been aware of surfacing suddenly; betrayal over having been lied to by his baby brother. But he doesn’t want to hurt Kíli, doesn’t want to put the painful look he had seen the previous night in his eyes. 

‘Where were you last night?’ he asks instead.

‘None of your business, as usual,’ Kíli glares at him. Annoyance over his reluctance builds in his stomach, but Fíli pushes it down, along with the urge to walk up and wrap his dark-haired Dwarf in a protective hug. 

‘Just tell me where you were,’ he pushes, walking close, as if the proximity would convince Kíli to tell him, so he won’t have to. It doesn’t. 

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Kíli persists. ‘I was out, just leave it alone.’ 

‘Kíli, I know.’ 

He wants to shout it, throw it in Kíli’s face and make him understand that he can’t be doing this, but it comes out like nothing more than a mumble. 

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Kíli murmurs, but Fíli knows he’s lying. He can see it in his eyes as they stare at each other; dark eyes filled with shock and fear.

A memory flashes before him, of Kíli hanging from a tree branch, higher than he was allowed, and Fíli screaming for him to come down. He remembers fingers slipping, and falling, and then his brother was staring up at him with the same look of pained surprise in his eyes, before he broke into tearful sobs. 

Kíli doesn’t cry now. He sits frozen on the bed, and when Fíli tentatively walks forward and sits down on the edge he cowers in on himself, legs pulled close to his body. 

‘I was there,’ Fíli speaks quietly. ‘Last night, I was there when you…’ he trails off, unable to continue. 

‘Fucked someone for money?’ Kíli suggests, and Fíli flinches. The room feels heavy with his venomous remark, and Fíli swallows with difficulty. 

‘Why?’ he asks, and curse his voice for wobbling so. ‘Why are you doing this to yourself?’ He turns around in time to see Kíli shrug. 

‘It pays well.’ The nonchalance in his voice is faked, and Fíli knows it, but it still makes him angry. 

‘Stop lying to me, Kíli. We’re not that short on money and you know it.’

He waits for Kíli to say something, but he only picks quietly at the fraying edge of a blanket, refusing to look at Fíli. The fiddling hand is shaking, and Fíli wants to grab it, hold it and kiss it and feel calluses that used to be familiar with his own fingers. 

‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ he asks instead. 

Kíli finally looks put at him, but then he laughs, and the sound rings cruelly in Fíli’s ears. That isn’t how his brother is supposed to laugh. 

‘Tell you? When should I have told you?’ he demands, rising on his knees and glaring at Fíli. ‘I wouldn’t want to get in the way of the creation of the next King Under the Mountain, would I? We definitely couldn’t have that.’

‘Is that what this is about?’ Fíli asks, trying to make sense of what Kíli is telling him. ‘Me being the heir and not you?’ 

‘There is nothing to be the heir of!’ Kíli shouts, and Fíli finds himself leaning away from his words. ‘We don’t have a mountain, Fíli! Yet you’re away with uncle or Balin or Dwalin day and night, rehearsing for something that none of us are ever going to get! Why can’t you see that, brother?’ The last is said in no more than a whisper, and suddenly a tear slides down Kíli’s cheek, then another, and then he’s sobbing and Fíli is grabbing him and pulling him against his chest. 

He cries into Fíli’s shirt, hands fisting the fabric and shoulders shaking from body-wrecking sobs. Fíli strokes a hand over his hair, holding Kíli tight and mumbling that everything is going to be alright, even though he has no idea how. His tunic is becoming drenched in tears, but Fíli doesn’t notice.   
‘I-‘ Kíli blubbers wetly, voice slightly muffled against Fíli’s chest. ‘I miss Ma.’ His voice sounds so young, and the confessions is so reminiscent of their childhood years, when things were easier and they were easier, that it makes Fíli’s heart clench painfully.   
‘And I miss you.’

‘But I’m right here,’ Fíli tries, but Kíli shakes his head and pulls away slightly. His face is wet with tears, and he wipes at them uselessly with the sleeve of his tunic. 

‘You’re not, Fíli. Ma left, and you haven’t been here for so long, not really. I was lonely, and I needed you, and the way we were when you would run away with a stupid beehive so none of the bees would sting me. I needed you like that, but you never came.’ 

His voice is shaking, and tears are still trickling down his cheeks, but when he speaks again he sounds a little calmer. 

‘And then he was just there, one night, and he told me I was beautiful and he made me feel wanted. And then I just continued, because I didn’t know what else to do, and you didn’t notice. You didn’t notice that I needed you, but you’re all I have, Fíli, and I just…’ he swallows, and wet eyes meet Fíli’s. ‘I need you to need me again too.’ 

Then he falls forward, a new wave of racking sobs overcoming him as he leans against Fíli. He wraps his arms around the shaking frame, presses him close, like he wanted to before, and his own eyes are burning with tears of shame. He made this. He did this, to his most precious thing, and the knowledge makes him feel sick. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he whispers, burying his nose in Kíli’s hair. It smells of alcohol, but beneath that is the smell of earth, of grass and of wind. Of Kíli. ‘I do need you, more than anything.’ He cradles Kíli’s face in his hands and lifts his head up to look at him. ‘But this has to stop.’ Kíli nods.  
‘I know.’ He sniffs lightly, and Fíli can’t help but lean forward and press his lips against his forehead. 

‘I’m so sorry,’ he mumbles against Kíli’s skin, and moves down to graze a kiss on his cheek. ‘I’m so very sorry.’ He wants to repeat it a thousand times, until Kíli understand just how much he means it. Then, without Fíli understanding quite how it happens, their lips are pressed together. For a moment they both sit frozen, until Kíli pushes forward, moving his lips against Fíli’s. It’s strange, at first, yet so very right that it makes Fíli dizzy. He kisses back, thumbs stroking away moisture from Kíli’s cheeks, and when the younger Dwarf slides his tongue against Fíli’s lips he greets it willingly. 

He pushes Kíli down on the bed, hands pressing into the mattress to support his weight. Kíli drags his hands up his back, tangling them in his hair and claiming his mouth further with a tight grip. For a few blissful minutes there is nothing but them, and their room and their bed, but then Kíli bursts the bubble with three little words that has Fíli’s head reeling. 

‘I love you,’ his young, broken, perfect brother breathes into his mouth, and Fili sits up straight. His body is screaming at him to stop, to lean back down and kiss those swollen lips and say it back. I love you, too. But his mind is screaming louder, reminding him of who they are, and what they are doing. 

‘We can’t,’ he quakes, and Kíli sits up after him with a confused look on his face. 

‘Yes we can,’ Kíli replies, reaching out toward his older brother, but Fíli flinches away from his touch. Confusion turns to hurt in the flash of a second, and he fights the urge to kiss away the wobble of Kíli’s lip with everything he has. He pushes himself off the bed and walks blindly to the door. When he pulls it open Kíli calls out brokenly after him. 

‘Fíli wait!’ He turns, and stares into pleading eyes that beg of him to stay. And he wants to, so very badly, but he can’t do this. ‘Please,’ the boy left on the bed whimpers softly, ‘please don’t leave again.’ 

But Fíli does. 

*

Kíli doesn’t know how long he sits on the bed after Fíli has gone, motionless and staring at the door he had exited through. They had been so close, so close to everything being all right again. Better than all right. Kissing Fíli had been so different from all the harsh, wet tongues pushed into his mouth by costumers, and it had been just as Kíli has imagines it while he pretends that the bodies pressing him into grimy mattresses every night are Fíli. Fíli kissing him, stroking his cheek and telling him how perfect he is. They had been so close. 

He gets to his feet carefully, can feel his legs shake slightly but ignores it, and walks toward the door. He contemplates following his brother; he can’t have come too far. He could convince him that they would be so right, that Kíli needs him to stay with him. He knows it’s scary, but they’ll get through it together. 

But then he realizes, in a painful moment of dawning, that Fíli perhaps doesn’t want to get through it. At least not with Kíli, his little brother, that gets drunk every night and sells himself for money and some pretty words. Maybe he would have stood a chance before, when they spent every minute of every day attached at the hip and laughing together, before Fíli turned into Thorin and Kíli turned to the bottle to numb the pain of abandonment. With the apprehension burning in the back of his mind, Kíli turns, letting his feet walk familiar steps to the only place he can think of. 

The tavern is quiet, and it feels strange. Kíli has never been there during the day, and the empty tables and chairs seem almost eerie in the sunlight. As Kíli walks further in, however, he sees that the bar isn’t completely devoid of people. Someone is snoring quietly in the far back, and two disheveled-looking Dwarves are playing a game of cards at one of the tables. Regulars, Kíli guesses, as he has seen them in the tavern every night, but he has never spoken to them. He isn’t going to today either. 

He sits down at the bar and orders a beer. The bartender gives him a skeptical look, but pours the drink nonetheless and hands it over wordlessly. Kíli still has a pretty bad hangover from the previous night, you’d think getting drunk every night for several months would render you immune but no such luck, but he drinks in deep swigs anyway. He orders another, and then another, and when Kíli is well on his way to being completely plastered, he hears the door open behind him. Heavy footsteps walk in, stop short, and Kíli knows it’s going to happen.

A few coins are thrown onto the bar in front of him, glistening in the sunlight, and hot breath puffs against the back of his neck. 

‘You open for business little lad?’ 

He stares at the money without really seeing them. 

No I’m not, goodbye. 

An image of Fíli’s horrified face backing away from him swims before him. Running away again and refusing to love Kíli back. 

I don’t want anything to do with you. Getting your fucking hands off me. 

Kíli sweeps the gold off the bar and drop them into his pocket. He smiles. 

‘Wide open.’

The mouth against his neck is rough, dark beard scratching harshly and teeth biting painfully against sensitive skin. The large Dwarf pressing Kíli against a wall of the same room he had been in the night before shoves a hand inside his underwear and grabs carelessly at his cock. He isn’t hard at all, but the Dwarf doesn’t seem to care. The attention to his neck and the groping at his dick is painful, yet it feels unusually intimate, and Kíli doesn’t like it. 

‘Wait,’ he coaxes, pressing a tender hand against the chest pushing against his own. Just get through it quickly. ‘We should move to the-‘ but the older Dwarf’s mouth on his own silences him abruptly. 

His lips are treated no different than his neck, and Kíli can’t help but remember Fíli’s tender kisses earlier this morning. While Kíli often tries to imagine that the kisses pressed against his mouth are bestowed upon him by him golden-haired brother, the knowledge of how wonderful kissing Fíli actually was compared to this makes him squirm in disgust. 

‘Stop,’ he tries, pulling his face away as far as he can, but the hungry mouth chases after him. 

‘I need you,’ he growls, and the words cause something to suddenly snap inside of Kíli. 

‘Stop!’ he shouts, pushing the Dwarf against the opposite wall. He backs away slightly, the words ringing in his ears, but not the words of the Dwarf in front of him, but the words that had been murmured against his hair a few hours earlier. 

This has to stop. 

He knows it. He promised it. 

‘I-I’m sorry,’ Kili stutters, feeling strangely embarrassed by backing out in such a way, not because he has second thoughts, but simply because he doesn’t really know how to go about it. ‘I can’t do this I’m afraid.’ The Dwarf has pulled himself together from the blow, and when he chuckles darkly it sends a chill down Kíli’s spine. 

‘Yes, you can,’ he says, stalking toward the bed and dragging Kíli along with him. 

‘Excuse me?’ he demands. He digs his heels into the floor and pulls himself lose, watching the Dwarf warily. He takes a few steps forward, and Kíli can suddenly feel adrenaline pulsing through him. 

‘I paid you,’ the Dwarf snarls, ‘so you can, and you will.’ 

‘Fine.’ Kili takes out the coins he had put in his pocket and drop them on the floor between them. ‘Now you didn’t.’ 

He turns swiftly and heads toward the door, but suddenly a strong hand is wrapped around his wrist and he is tugged back by such a force that for a moment Kíli thinks his arm might fall off. A second hand grabs his shirt collar and the rejected Dwarf’s face is suddenly much too close to Kíli’s. 

‘It doesn’t work that way, lad. Pay me what you owe.’ 

Kíli struggles, but while he may be tall and swift, the strength of his capturer overpowers him. 

He is thrown on to the bed, and before he has time the roll away, heavy thighs straddle him, making escape impossible. 

‘Stop it,’ he begs, his voice weak and shaking, but it only elicits a laugh from the Dwarf on top of him, who is untying his trousers sloppily. Kíli thrashes uselessly, fighting against the hand that is pinning his wrists above his head. When the Dwarf lifts himself up slightly to tug down his pants, Kíli kicks up. But instead of hitting the groin his was aiming for his knee punches pathetically into empty air.

As rough fingers start to pull at his own trousers, Kíli can feel paralyzing fear overcome him. This can’t happen, not like this, not when he promised Fíli he would stop.

‘I’ll scream,’ Kíli threatens, trying to make his voice as low and menacing as possible, even though he can feel frightful tears rise in his eyes. 

‘Like hell you will,’ he barks, striking Kíli across the face and making him see stars. But still defiance sparks inside him, and Kíli lashes out against his bonds. 

‘Get off me!’ he yells, as loudly as he can. ‘Help!’ 

To Kíli’s surprise, his hands are released. He kicks out again, trying to scramble up the bed now that his hands are free, but in his haste Kíli doesn’t notice the silver of a blade flash in the sun. 

*

Fíli walks aimlessly through the streets. He doesn’t know where he is or where he’s going, doesn’t even know what the hell he’s doing, but he keeps walking. A whirlpool of Kíli is spinning through his mind, and every fiber of his body is begging him to turn around and go back to Kíli. It is torture, to have had Kíli so close, wrapping himself around him and finally letting him breathe, but his mind is still reminded of all the reasons that he walked out. 

I love you, too. And Fíli does, loves Kíli with his whole being, but while they feel so right together in the confines of their bedroom, the world outside is a very different place. He thinks about telling Uncle Thorin, the sting of a slap and words of betrayal. He thinks about telling Ma, the tears of horror and words of disgust. 

But then he thinks about Kíli. His Kíli, who has become thin and broken because Fíli was too wrapped up in his pointless quest for approval to do anything about it. He thinks about Kíli’s words, I need you, I love you, warming the very marrow of his bones. And he thinks about kissing Kíli. He thinks about Kíli’s hands tangled in his hair and about soft lips pressed against his and warm limbs asking Fíli not to leave. 

But Fíli did. 

He stops dead in his tracks. He looks around, up at the mountains surrounding their village and at the people milling about on the street. Then he turns, and he runs. 

Mother and Thorin be damned, he needs Kíli more than he needs approval or a stupid throne in some mountain he has never even laid his eyes on. He storms through the house, passing Balin, who may have asked him something, but Fíli doesn’t care. He runs up the stairs and throws the door to Kíli’s and his room open with a loud bang, but the room is empty. Damn. 

He takes a minute to think. Where would Kíli go, on a Thursday morning after having just been rejected by his brother? It is a question Fíli has, thankfully, never had to ask himself before, yet the answer comes to him almost immediately. 

He told me I was beautiful and he made me feel wanted. 

Kíli’s words come back to him like a punch in the stomach. Fíli didn’t flatter himself enough to think that he was the lone reason why Kíli started selling himself, but he had been a contributing factor, Kíli had said as much himself. And now Fíli had pushed his brother away, again. Fuck. 

He has to ask for directions twice, he had been paying little attention to the placement of the tavern where he had seen Kíli the previous night. When he finally arrives and runs through the door, he is taken by how empty the place is. It’s barely midday, he reminds himself as he hurries up to the bartender, who is stacking glasses on a tray. 

‘Hello, have you seen a young Dwarf this morning; tall, brown hair, stubbly?’ he asks, and the Dwarf behind the counter nods slowly, not bothering to look up from his task. 

‘He’s upstairs with someone, so if I were you I wouldn’t g-‘ Fíli doesn’t stay to let him finish his sentence. He takes the stairs two at a time, but when he gets up to the second landing he is forced to pause. Too many doors. But then he hears it, coming from the room directly to his left. 

‘Get off me! Help!’ Fíli’s blood turns to ice, and in a sudden surge of adrenaline, he kicks the door open and storms in. 

At first, all he can see is the back of a burly Dwarf, bending over on the bed, but then he moves closer, and Kíli’s face comes into view. He looks more scared than Fíli has ever seen him before, and with a powerful roar Fíli dashes forward and throws the Dwarf off his brother. It is as though neither Dwarf has noticed Fíli’s entrance, and the Dwarf on the floor stares up at him in shock. Fíli aims a kick at his abdomen that slides him toward the door, and then picks him up by his shirtfronts and growls at him. 

‘Don’t you dare touch him,’ Fíli seethes, and then throws him out of the room. He thinks he may have sent the Dwarf falling down the stair, but he doesn’t care. 

He turns back toward the bed, where Kíli is still laying on his back, panting. 

‘Kíli,’ he breathes, and crosses the room quickly. He kneels beside his brother, leaning over him and stroking hair out of his face. Kíli looks up at him, eyes wet and frantic, but then they soften as he searches Fíli’s 

‘You’re here,’ Kíli whispers, voice haggard and trembling. 

‘Ay,’ Fíli nods, leaning down to press their foreheads together. ‘I’m sorry I left in the first place.’ Kíli hums quietly, letting their lips touch in nothing more than a brush of skin.   
‘S’alright.’ 

Suddenly, Kíli lets out a hacking, wrenching cough. Fíli pulls away slightly to wipe at his face, but when he brings his hand down, it is streaked with red. He stares down at Kíli, and a little trail of blood is trickling slowly from the corner of his mouth. 

‘Kíli?’ he trembles, and follows Kíli’s gaze, down to where his hand is pressed against his stomach. A red stain is spreading quickly, far too quickly, against the white of Kíli’s tunic. No. Fíli jumps up and lifts Kíli’s hand away. It’s a knife wound, he can see as much, but it is deep, and blood is gushing out of it as Fíli presses his own hand against his brother’s quivering stomach. 

He raises his gaze to meet Kíli’s, pleading eyes begging someone, anyone, to not let this be happening. But Kíli is smiling, tired but warm, up at Fíli. 

‘I said no,’ he wheezes out, and the pride in his voice makes Fíli’s world crumble even faster. But he nods, takes a deep breath to keep the tears that are threatening to spill over at bay, and smiles back. 

‘I’m sure you were brilliant, Kee.’ He scoots back up on the bed, still keeping a firm pressure against the pulsing wound, and strokes a hand through Kíli’s tangled locks. ‘You’re going to be ok, I promise. I’m going to get help.’ 

‘No.’ Kíli shakes his head, stubborn determination that Fíli knows so well, but his brow relaxes as he puts a cold hand over Fíli’s. ‘I think it’s a bit too late for that, brother.’ 

Fíli doesn’t want to hear it, even though he knows, deep down, that Kíli is right. There is too much blood, and getting a healer here would take too long, but Fíli doesn’t care. 

‘Don’t say that,’ he pleads, and Kíli squeezes his hand. The gesture reminds him of their mother’s touch, how she held on to their hands as they lowered Fíli and Kíli’s father into the ground, but it isn’t reassuring. It only makes it hurt more. 

‘It’s ok, Fee.’ 

‘No it’s not!’ Fíli says, a sob tearing through his chest, and it’s only then he realizes that he is crying. He wipes furiously at the tears streaming down his cheeks, holding on to Kíli’s hand as though it were the lifeline that would get them both out of this.   
‘I need you,’ Fíli wails, and then it is his turn to hide himself in Kíli’s shirt, as he cries over his fading little brother. He sobs, and coughs, and whispers ‘I love you’ into Kíli’s chest. I love you, I love you, I love you. 

‘I love you, too,’ Kíli whispers, dragging careful fingers through Fíli’s hair. 

Eventually, Kíli’s hand stops, and rests heavy against Fíli’s shoulder. When he looks up, Kíli’s eyes have closed, and Kíli’s heart, the heart that beat for his brother, only ever for Fíli, has gone still without him noticing.

**Author's Note:**

> I regret so much.


End file.
